Soup That Made Sense Yesterday

When I envisioned this post yesterday, it was a very pretty yet very damp, frigid New England day outside. I took a long walk in the afternoon because I happen to like gray and rainy days, but wearing boots, mittens, two pairs of leggings, and my running parka underneath my winter parka. With the hood up. From a down cocoon, it was a gorgeous day for a walk, really.



THIS is what it looked like outside. Total Wuthering Heights, right?
Although not Wuthering Heights because I hate that book, and if I ever saw
Heathcliff I would punch him in his stupid face.
Total Jane Eyre. Yes. Better. Mmmm. Rochester.

Anyway, it was misty and raw all day long, and as I got ready to make dinner, the only thing I could think of that I wanted to eat was . . . SOUP. Obviously. What else are you supposed to eat on a day like that? Little did I know, that, thanks to the ridiculously changeable weather in New England, this post would be retroactively irrelevant.

I am writing a post about soup and its warming/comforting properties on a day when it's almost 70F outside, on a day when, walking this afternoon, I had to make sure I put sunscreen on. Yes, dear reader, sunscreen. I wore jeans and a light cardigan and I was actually hot. That hasn't happened since . . . well since I lived in New York and couldn't control my thermostat. I had almost forgotten what the sensation of being overheated felt like.

The house, delightfully, has retained the cold. So I am under a fleece blanket in sweatpants as I type this. And when I go outside I immediately have to rip my sweater off. To give you a visual, my bread dough is rising in the foyer. Sitting in its bowl covered by its cloth on the doormat. Because the foyer is the warmest place in the house right now. That's just . . . sad.

So please forgive the silliness of a post entitled "it's cold eat soup", and perhaps save it for . . . ahem . . a rainy day. In the meantime, grab your shades, remove your jackets, and enjoy a truly gorgeous day.

SOUP THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE ON A DAY LIKE TODAY BUT MAYBE WILL SOON

or, more succinctly

RAINY DAY SOUP

Reading through Recipes For Health in the Times yesterday and drooling over Martha Rose Schulman's amazing photos, I developed a case of Orzo on the brain. This is why this soup has orzo in it. Her recipes were all spring pastas! warm weather dishes! bright green ingredients to welcome a new season! To which I said a resounding HA as I walked listening to the rustling of my hood against my ears.

But the concept of soup with orzo sounded yummy and I knew we had it in the pasta cupboard. I also knew we had a lot of onions and a lot of broccoli. So, spurred on by the idea of orzo plus green vegetables, I made a cold weather dish that was green and full of orzo and thick and hearty and delicious.

Talk about innovation. Innovative Warrior Beetle. That's me.

RAINY DAY SOUP 

• One small onion, finely chopped
• Two medium bunches broccoli, floret-ed (I just made that verb up. You know what I mean.I'm totally using it from now on so get used to it.)
• 1 can Great Northern Beans (the small white ones, you can use the paradoxically named Navy Beans too)
• 2 cups vegetable broth
• 1 cup Orzo
• Fresh rosemary
• Olive Oil
• salt and pepper

One of the best smells in the world. Cooked onions.
Except when it gets in your hair and then you're showering
the next morning and you think what the hell and then
you remember what you made the night
before and realise you're not dying.
And also to rinse and repeat.

Heat olive oil in a small pot, add onions and cook, about 10 minutes, until soft. Add rosemary sprigs and cook a few minutes more until it's nice and browned.

Add vegetable broth, beans in their water (this makes it nice and thick), and broccoli. Simmer about 5 minutes until broccoli is just starting to soften. Add orzo and let simmer about 7 - 10 minutes longer, until broccoli is tender and the orzo is done.










It's a really quick, easy soup that does actually look quite spring like, green and bright, but which is thick and total comfort food. And don't worry if your broccoli gets squishy or the pasta isn't perfectly al dente. It's SOUP. Squishy and warm is kind of the point.

With everything added. Beans, orzo, broccoli, rosemary. Green and warm and yum.

Mum wasn't home from work yet so I turned off the burners, covered the pot, and let it sit and stay warm for about half an hour. What happened then was that a bit more water was absorbed by the pasta, so it was really a very very thick soup, but sprinkled with cheese and with a massive wedge of bread on the plate next to it, I didn't hear anyone complaining. I didn't hear anything at all, actually. We believe in chewing with our mouths closed.

The thicker, post absorption soup. Stew. Whatever it was at that point.

Now, excuse me as I pull the curtains in the library because the glaring yes glaring sunshine coming in through the windows is making it hard to see my computer screen. Sigh.

Sorry about the inappropriateness, dear reader, but hey, it's New England. Don't like the weather? Give it five minutes. It'll change.